


breathe from the source

by layersofsilence



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Fluff, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, it's bucky's birthday so i did a thing, mention of tony, who are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/layersofsilence/pseuds/layersofsilence
Summary: Steve’s eyes had always stuttered over Bucky when Bucky stole his clothes. Bucky, idiot that he was, had always blushed and looked down and been warmly pleased about that reaction. Like it was a good thing, when it – when it so clearly hadn’t been. Steve had made that pretty clear four nights ago, by stammering incoherently and then fleeing the room after Bucky’d tried to kiss him.There weren’t many ways to explain that away, was the thing. No matter how many stupid fucking justifications Bucky’s stupid hopeful mind kept coming up with.





	breathe from the source

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday bucky barnes, please stop making me cry

When Bucky finds the pamphlets in Steve’s closet he can only stare at them for several long moments, blindsided and speechless. Then his brain finally gets with the program and processes what they say, and it’s – it _hurts_ , like someone has reached into his chest and torn away a chunk of his heart. Only, no, that metaphor isn’t quite right – he’d given his heart away a long time ago, if his memories were to be trusted. It was more like someone had reached into his chest and poked around to remind him, starkly and vividly, of how empty the cavity in his chest was. He hadn’t gotten a heart in return.

He hadn’t even meant to find them, was the thing. Hadn’t expected it in the slightest. He’d just wanted a sweater, one of Steve’s, because Steve stretched out his sweaters obscenely until they were beautifully soft and comfortable on Bucky’s frame. Also and more importantly, they all smell like Steve, enough that Bucky can duck his head surreptitiously and breathe him in when situations or choices are particularly overwhelming and unappealing. And Bucky has been good, okay, he hasn’t touched any of Steve’s clothes for four days, but Steve’s currently on a mission, has _been_ on a mission for two days already, and he won’t be back for another week or two. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Steve’s eyes had always stuttered over Bucky when Bucky stole his clothes. Bucky, idiot that he was, had always blushed and looked down and been warmly pleased about that reaction. Like it was a good thing, when it – when it so clearly hadn’t been. Steve had made that pretty clear four nights ago, by stammering incoherently and then fleeing the room after Bucky’d tried to kiss him.

There weren’t many ways to explain that away, was the thing. No matter how many stupid fucking justifications Bucky’s stupid hopeful mind kept coming up with.

And. Well. This was pretty clear, too. He hadn’t – he hadn’t thought it was this bad. He and Steve had avoided each other a little after what Bucky had labelled The Incident, sure, and the number of words they’d exchanged had regressed right back to when Bucky had first started living here, but. _But_. Bucky hadn’t thought that it was bad enough to warrant Steve leaving him.

That’s not good phrasing. Steve isn’t Bucky’s, and, more importantly, Bucky isn’t Steve’s. Steve would simply be leaving, as was his choice. It didn’t mean he was leaving Bucky specifically, even if he had arranged this suspiciously fast. There’d only been two days between The Incident and Steve’s mission, and the pamphlets definitely hadn’t been here the last time Bucky had come in.

The cruellest thing about it was that Bucky had started to believe he could stay. If he’d found this, fuck, even a month ago, he’d’ve been resigned to them. But now – it hurts, now. He’s finally fucked up badly enough that Steve’s leaving.

The pamphlets are shaking. There is a distant thought in Bucky’s mind that it’s uncharacteristic, for things so mercenary to shake, but then he realises it’s his hand that’s shaking, which – makes more sense. Sadness and confusion and, yes, hurt, these are emotions which are usually expressed through the body. He thinks he would regard this as a step forward in his recovery if he wasn’t currently so occupied.

Abruptly, he does not want to continue seeing the pamphlets, so he stuffs them back into their folder and jams the folder into its snug hiding space between Steve’s favourite unicorn-patterned hoodie and his favourite ugly-patterned sweater which he really only wears because Tony always makes a massive fuss about how Steve can make even the ugliest sweater look good and how unfair it is.

Then Bucky mutters a curse and yanks the folder back out again, because if he leaves it as is Steve is certainly going to know that someone’s seen it. Arranging them takes longer than it should, because his hands refuse to stop shaking. It gives the bright pamphlets too much time to shine up at him, broadcasting words like ‘cosy’ and ‘one-bedroom’ and images of snug small flats that are perfect for one person that Bucky absolutely does not want to see.

When he finally has everything arranged to his satisfaction, he leaves and he doesn’t take a sweater with him. He’s going to have to get out of the habit, if Steve’s going to leave him.

~*~

Steve had asked Bucky, in those fraught few days when he’d first come back, to always tell Steve if he had to leave. That’s really the only reason why, ten days later and despite the number of times he’s wanted to just take a bag and go – _leave first_ , some instinct in him urges, _it’ll hurt less that way_ – Bucky is still hanging around on Steve’s floor of Avengers Tower a week and a half later when Steve _finally_ gets back from his mission.

It’s impossible for someone to spend a full ten days moping incessantly. He’d been hurt and then he’d compartmentalised that quite neatly until the emotions came back full force in the form of a simmering angry resentment which Bucky realises is very irrational. This does not, annoyingly, do anything to ameliorate the anger; it may in fact only make it worse. Bucky would have preferred that Steve come back to the moping, instead of the anger, but of course Steve can’t make anything easy.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve chirps as soon as he sees Bucky.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky returns, a little too slow and a little too reluctant to be normal. Steve raises an eyebrow, turns towards Bucky curiously, and Bucky buries his face in his book again. He’s very bad at pretending to be normal, apparently. Or maybe he’s just too angry to want to try. He hitches his book up a little higher.

The book in question is _Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War Two_. Bucky refuses to admit that he got the book in a petty attempt to make Steve uncomfortable, but Steve only pauses slightly when he catches the title of the book.

“I was thinking we could go for Vietnamese tonight,” he offers. There is a note of nervousness around the words and Bucky immediately tenses; he knows what’s coming, then.

“It’s okay,” he blurts out. “I can go.”

Steve’s forehead wrinkles, like he doesn’t _get it_ , which is _ridiculous_ , Steve was the one to start this whole damn thing in the first place –

“I was kinda thinking we’d both go,” he says. “Or we could order in, you don’t have to –”

Bucky fully intends for this to go smoothly and unemotionally. He’s rehearsed for ten days (well, six; the first three had been spent moping too hard and the one after that had been characterised by denial, which refused to plan ahead) not only what he should say but also everything he could say, and what Steve might say, and what he could say in response to anything Steve might say. And yet all that comes out of his mouth now is a far-too-angry, “Don’t!” that was not in any of his game plans.

Steve snaps his mouth shut, and looks like someone has kicked his puppy. Bucky can feel his anger start to slip away and become sadness, so he yanks it back in place and hides behind it.

“Buck, listen –” Steve says, obviously not expecting Bucky to listen, because he breaks off after that and stares silently.

“What?” Bucky snaps.

“Is something – what’s wrong?” Steve asks, and he has the gall to look _upset_ , like he has no idea what’s going on. Technically he doesn’t, Bucky has to admit, but Bucky also refuses to accept that Steve would leave those pamphlets in his wardrobe and think that Bucky wouldn’t find them there.

“What’s fucking _wrong_ ,” Bucky snarls, and somehow he has gotten up and his book is discarded on the floor and he’s right in front of Steve. “I found your fucking pamphlets, is what’s _wrong_.”

Steve’s face falls so fast it would almost be comical if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. So Steve hadn’t wanted Bucky to find those pamphlets after all. It hadn’t been a mistake, or a misunderstanding. Bucky is _fine_.

“Oh,” Steve says. “You – you don’t like the idea?”

Bucky scoffs, turns away, folds his arms. No matter how tight he tries to hold on to his anger its transmutation back into hurt is inexorable. “What does it fucking matter if I don’t like the _fucking_ idea?” he snaps.

“Bucky,” Steve says – sounding hurt, of all things – “of course I wouldn’t have – I mean, not without asking you.”

“And what were you hoping to get out of that?” Bucky asks. It’s meant to sound angry, but all the anger has drained out of him, and it comes out awfully flat. “You want me to beg you to stay?”

“Beg me?” Steve repeats.

“I would, you know,” Bucky admits, not even bothering to pretend that his folded arms are anything but an excuse to hold himself together. “If you wanted me to. If you gave me the chance. So you should just – go, before I humiliate myself –”

Too late. His voice cracks, and his eyes are hot. He doesn’t want Steve to leave him.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve whispers. “Oh, no, Bucky, please – I fucked up, I fucked up, please look at me. It’s not what you think, I swear it’s not.”

Bucky absolutely does not intend to move, but his _stupid_ hopeful body turns towards Steve anyway, a flower to its sun. Very gently, Steve reaches out, brushes fingertips against Bucky’s arm. Doesn’t touch him more than that.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realise what they’d look like. I – it’s not for me, it’s not an apartment for me. It’s for us.”

That makes Bucky look up, makes him have to tamp down on the hope that flares through his chest.

“It’s a one-bedroom apartment,” he says carefully.

Steve blushes, looks down. “I thought – I mean, I know I didn’t handle that well. I was scared, and then every time I wanted to talk to you about it you disappeared. And then there was the mission, so I – I’m sorry for scaring you. I wanted to do something for you when I came back, so I got Tony to show me some places and talk to the realtors, but if you want to stay here we can do that too, I just wanted to – show you there were other options, I dunno – please say something, Buck, or move, or something, you’re scaring me over here.”

“I thought you were leaving me,” is all Bucky can say, “for _ten days_.” Ten days is a long time, when it’s spent thinking that Steve’s going to leave him. He can still feel the weight of them in his chest.

Steve face falls and he starts apologising again, but Bucky crashes into him, refuses to let him say another word. Steve cooperates very enthusiastically, once he realises what’s happening.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky whispers, once they’ve pulled away from each other. “Fuck, _I’m_ an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Steve says staunchly, one arm tight around Bucky’s waist. The other comes up to cradle his face, and that kind of makes Bucky want to burst into tears, the way that Steve touches him like he’s precious.

“You’re sweet, but I kind of am,” Bucky says. The temptation to say _don’t leave me, please never leave me_ is very strong, but for once he makes his body and his mouth obey him. “If you – I mean. If you ever want to leave,” he says. “You – should. Don’t just – stop that, this is important,” he frowns, when Steve starts shushing him. “Don’t stay out of pity, or because I asked you not to, or –” he snorts, self-conscious, “ _begged_ you.”

“I take it back, you _are_ an idiot,” Steve says. “Like I’m ever going to want to leave you.”

That makes Bucky pause, and Steve, the dirty cheat that he is, jumps on it.

“It’s true,” he says. “C’mon, Buck. To the end of the line, yeah?”

“Lines have ends,” Bucky says.

“Not ours,” Steve says. “Not for a long fucking time, sweetheart.”

The words make Bucky shiver, make him unravel and crack open wide and raw and slump against Steve, tucking his face in Steve’s neck and breathing him in. Trusting Steve to hold him together, and Steve might slide down the wall with the weight of them but his hands are strong and steady.

“So – when was this house showing?” Bucky asks.

“We don’t have to,” Steve says hastily. “We can stay –”

“No, c’mon, I want to, now,” Bucky says. “With you.”

“Together,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t have to look up to know that his guy has a goofy fucking smile on his face.

“Yeah, together, you sap,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs, something giddy in the noise. “What?”

“You think that’s sappy,” Steve says. “The real sappy part is that I got the realtors to arrange all the showings for your birthday.”

“Steve _Rogers_ ,” Bucky says, mock-horrified, but he’s utterly, utterly charmed. “You’re trying to get me an apartment for my birthday?”

“I know, I know,” Steve says, even though Bucky is not sure that he does know, really. “But I needed a proper way to apologise for running out on your kiss. And I know you get antsy here, with everyone else around and JARVIS. So I  thought –”

“That you’d get me an apartment for my birthday,” Bucky finishes for him. “No big deal. How am I meant to top that in four months, Rogers?”

It’s the first time he’s mentioned plans for the future, but it slips out so naturally that Bucky doesn’t even notice until Steve skips a breath and tightens his arms.

“I don’t know,” he says, as Bucky breathes him in, content. “Four months is a long time. I’m sure you can work something out.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr type thing](https://layersofsilences.tumblr.com), come yell at me


End file.
